Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Having accounted for the family in her first letter of 1958
(12 March), Bishop turned to a literary topic: “‘The Diary’ is doing pretty
well, I think.” By which she meant her translation, The Diary of ‘Helena Morley’.”

Bishop told Grace that it was already into a second edition
and was getting “very good reviews.” She couldn’t tell her aunt “how many
copies have been sold yet.” In the end, not as many as she had hoped.

Bishop sent Grace a copy, but the niece was unsure if the
aunt had received it. She thought not (partly because Grace was gallivanting),
“I do think you’ll enjoy it when you get your copy.” [Grace did receive her
copy and it is now resident at Acadia University Archives.]

It is not known what Grace’s response was, but knowing
something of her sense of humour, she undoubtedly enjoyed it, as Helena has quite an
attitude about life. Bishop said that Helena’s
Diamantina reminded her of rural Nova
Scotia. And there were remarkable echoes, indeed.

Interestingly, Bishop admitted to Grace that “it was hard to
make it sound natural.” As she explained to others, Portuguese is a more
formal language than English. In her effort to do so, when she “got stuck about
how to translate them literally,” she said she tried “to think of what Gammie
would have said! I think it worked pretty well.”

In 1999 I had the privilege of going to a Bishop conference
in Ouro Prêto, Brazil. Brett Millier kindly
invited me to present a paper on a panel she put together. My topic was
Bishop’s translation of this book. Here is a brief paragraph from that talk,
which speaks to the above claim:

While she tried to remain true to the tone and texture of the original,
Bishop incorporated a good deal of her own colloquialism and idiom into the
translation. I offer only one interesting example — there are many. One of
Bishop’s favourite words was “awful” (and its variations). Listen to how many
ways Bishop brings it into the translation: “awfully sorry,” “awfully funny,”
“perfectly awful,” “how awful,” “awful things,” “something awful,” “an awful
lot,” “this awful fault,” “that awful dentist,” “it’s awful,” “the rice is
awful,” “it must be awful,” “so awful,” “awful uproar,” “really awfully bad,”
“too awful,” “an awful shock.” And, again, there are many more examples.

Certainly, Grace would have recognized much that appeared in
this lively translation, one of the most ambitious projects Bishop ever undertook,
a commitment of several years’ duration.

Bishop also told Grace that she’d sent Aunt Mary “a copy of
the book but I’ve never heard a word. I wonder if you happen to know if she got
it?”

Bishop also wondered if Grace, who was still in Florida, happened to get to Key West for her visit with Marjorie Stevens.
“I haven’t heard from Marjorie for ages,” Bishop noted, and reiterating
something she’d told Grace before, “she works much too hard, usually.”She had heard from her friend “at Christmas
time,” but not since, Bishop said, and declared, “I know she’d like to see you
though, if she possibly could.”

Scribbled on the bottom of this letter, in Bishop’s near
indecipherable scrawl was an addendum, “I just got a letter from Marjorie —
says she’s expecting you & Hazel on the 20th — hope you have a nice time.”
Remembering her pretty “little house,” Bishop editorialized, “ she’s the
world’s fussiest housekeeper!”

Earlier in this letter, Bishop accounted for its poor
condition by telling Grace that she was “typing down at the house because the
lights in the estudio aren’t working tonight.” She was using an “old typewriter
and it skips dreadfully.” This letter is filled with all manner of misspellings
and gapped words, more than usual. Finally, Bishop declared (you can hear the
frustration), “I think this typewriter is really too awful [there’s that ‘awful’
again].” She would “give up for the night” and asked Grace to “forgive me for
not writing for so long — it was really awfully
busy here.” All the activity had meant she didn’t even “get up to the studio
for days on end.” And with the bug she’d picked up in Rio
at Carnival, she “stayed in bed most of last week, no sick, just tired.”
Grandma Lota tended to her sick partner, as well as the babies, giving Bishop
“vitamin B shots,” which did the trick and she was feeling “fine.” Which meant
she was trying to write again, “trying to finish up a bunch of stories.” The
hope here was that they would earn enough to contribute to another trip to the USA and parts
north soon.” Bishop never lost sight of the need to earn a living:
contemplation AND commerce.

Sunday, December 18, 2016

The main subject of Bishop’s letter of 12 March 1958 was
“the grandchildren.” All four of them had come to Samambaia with their mother
to escape the heat and water situation in Rio.
Bishop reported to Grace that they were “staying at a little house down below”
them, about “½ a mile” away, “thank goodness.” Bishop liked their mother, “a
very nice quiet little thing,” who had been trying to cope with a four-month
old “adorable” infant and three toddlers, all under five. The mother “said that
first of all, when they got their 4 gallons [of water], they washed the
children.” This family of little ones were fetched by Lota as soon as she
learned of the troubles, “she brought them all up — all car-sick, hot,
exhausted, and very yellow, poor little things.” Bishop could happily report,
“Now they’re already looking 100% better.”

Knowing Grace had a perennial interest in babies, Bishop gave
a full accounting of how things were going. Bishop had visited them just that
afternoon, “a walk down the mountain to call on them.” She updated Grace on
their demographics: “one boy, Paulo, aged two, very big and fair — surprising
here — and shy” and “2 little girls, five and 3½.” The sisters “doted” on their
little brother, undoubtedly pretending he was their baby doll: they “tug him around
with them all day long, hug him and kiss him.” Bishop noted, undoubtedly with
her tongue in her cheek, that “only the 3½year old” understood “what he says.”

Lota took her grandmotherly duties very seriously. One of
the things she brought back with her from New York, in the many boxes and barrels, was
“junket tablets,” which she had seen in a grocery store. Something she had
never heard of before. “Her idea was to make junket for the children.” Bishop
reported that, unfortunately, “Brazilian milk is too poor.” At least their
efforts proved unappealing. Bishop asks, rhetorically, “Or does it have to be
whole milk?” The milk they could obtain was “so watery,” Bishop explained, she
“wasn’t surprised when it wouldn’t work.” While shopping in Petrópolis,
however, they bought more milk hoping it would be better. But it, too, failed
to produce an edible treat. Bishop wondered if she’d explained to her aunt
about the milk: “The milk is always watery — I guess I told you, didn’t I —
they call it ‘baptizing’ the milk…”

The next little one to come in for comment was Betty, the
cook’s daughter, who turned three on 7 February. Bishop included a photo of her
namesake (which does not survive) with her sister, “Alisette Mara — (I
don’t know how to spell it, that’s what it sounds like).” Bishop remarked again
how “awfully bright” Betty was. Unkindly, she notes that her parents are
“stupid,” and that she and Lota were going to “try to get her to school at
least.” The new addition was only six months old. Even though space and time
made the next bit of information irrelevant to Grace, Bishop couldn’t help but
pass on some gossip: “this one looks exactly like our ex-gardener … but
really exactly.” Even though it was obvious, Bishop noted that “Lota’s
trying to get her courage up to ask Maria … if she didn’t slip a little.”

To round out these accounts, Bishop noted: “Besides all this
infant human life, we also have one tiny black puppy.” This new addition was
the offspring of their “mongrel dog.” This aging canine (one thinks of Bishop’s
poem “Pink Dog”) “is getting quite old, her face is white, and she’s lost some
teeth.” In spite of this diminishment, “somehow or other she recently produced
this puppy.” As cute as it was, they had “found a home for it.” But Bishop
assured Grace that “I won’t let it go until it’s over two months old,” a
kindness and caution she undoubtedly learned in rural Nova Scotia during her childhood. She did
report that it was “six weeks” old and, with a smile on her face, for sure,
already “housebroken — that is, it comes in the house without fail, to
go to the bathroom.”

Saturday, December 10, 2016

With the weather situation dispatched in her letter of 12
March 1958, Bishop offered Grace an explanation for why Lota had been enduring
the excessive heat in Rio. A crisis had developed
with Lota’s sister and required her attention on a number of occasions.

Bishop was under the impression that Grace already knew
something of the situation, “I think the last time I wrote you [Lota’s] sister
[Marietta Nascimento] had had her first operation.” Since this information was
not included in the final letter for 1957, another letter must have conveyed it.
But, then, as Bishop thinks again, she wonders: “I’m not sure whether I wrote
you or not.”’

Lota’s sister had “two badly infected tumors,” which
required emergency surgery. Lota “had to rush to Rio
one night and get the sister into a hospital, where she was operated on at 6
A.M.” Bishop was certain that if Lota had not intervened, her sister “surely
would have died.” Clearly, in some sort of denial, the sister was “just dying,
at home, taking aspirin and ice-water, with her lover at her bedside!” Bishop’s
unkind assessment of this woman was that she was “too wacky to do anything for
herself.”

The initial intervention solved one problem, only to have
another, “adhesions,” develop. These required further surgery, which also required
Lota’s presence. Bishop watched all this unfold and described the situation as
“dreadful.” Bishop and Grace shared a keen interest in all things medical.
Grace was still nursing, though in a reduced capacity, and she had been in this
profession since the mid-1910s. A running theme in Bishop’s letters to her aunt
was medicine. [Ed. note: Eons ago, I presented a paper to The History of
Medicine Society in Halifax,
N.S., about Bishop’s medical
history and her keen interest in medicine.]

One pleasant consequence of this family drama was that
Lota’s nephew, Flavio Soares Regis, came to stay with them for a few weeks,
while his mother was in hospital. Bishop described Flavio as “a book-worm, 15
years old.” He suffered from asthma, so he and Bishop had an instant
connection. His condition, like hers, required injections, which Bishop administered.
They encouraged him to go swimming.

Bishop and Flavio eventually became good friends. One other
deep connection they shared was a love of music. Flavio eventually entered the
Brazilian diplomatic service, but retained a keen love of jazz music. Sadly,
however, he committed suicide early in 1971. A death Bishop felt acutely. She never
learned the reasons for this irreversible decision, but she blamed the troubled
and tumultuous political situation in Brazil. She had always felt the
pressures and strains of Lota’s involvement in public life and the Parque do
Flamenco had taken a serious toll on her health and led directly to her
suicide.

But, in 1958, Flavio was a bright, young, pleasant companion,
someone Bishop could talk to about poetry and music. Her fondness for him never
waned. He must have felt a deep fondness for her, too, because when she became persona non grata in Brazil after
Lota’s death in 1967, their friendship endured.

Bishop did not remain always at Samambaia when Lota was in Rio. Once the worst of the trouble with Lota’s sister
eased, Bishop went “to Rio for the one night
of carnival I wanted to see — the Negro Samba ‘schools’.” Carnival is one of
the most elaborate events in Brazil
(might one suggest, the world). Bishop had a keen interest in this phenomenon
of celebration and tried to see the big parade every year. This year, Bishop
reported to Grace, “we had seats in the press section, but just boards, and it
was fearfully hot.” They countered the strain of the heat with “a thermos of
iced coffee to support us through the night, and sandwiches.” It was an all-nighter
because “the really good ones don’t come until the end.” But they didn’t make
it through to the end this year, giving up around 3 A.M., driving “all the way
back here.”For reasons unknown to
Bishop, “the schedule was so off” that things didn’t wind up until 11 A.M. the
next day.

Bishop then offers a description to Grace about the
participants of this grand event. “They’re clubs of dancers, hundreds in each
club.” These clubs “rehearse all year, and make their own songs and dances.”
Bishop herself wrote some samba songs for carnival. Most of these clubs were
comprised of “the poorest people” in Rio, but
they managed to “put thousands into it.” Professional dance teachers were hired
and elaborate, “beautiful costumes” made. Some clubs decked out in sumptuous
“silks and satins,” with “white wigs” from the “Louis XVI period.” Bishop
declared, “It’s one of the nicest things in Brazil, for me.”

Unfortunately, on this excursion, she “picked up some germs”
and not being “used to them” developed “horrible diorraha [sic: I don’t think I need to clarify this misspelling!] and she had
been struggling with something like flu for “over a week.” As bad as she felt,
she did not return to Rio to see a doctor, but
toughed it out in the cooler air of the mountains. Her treatment for this
ailment was “charcoal pills” and “waited for it to subside and finally it did.”

By the time Bishop wrote this letter, Flavio was “back at
school.” But all was not quiet at the house in Samambaia because all the grandchildren
were visiting. More about them in the next post.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Bishop’s first letter to Grace in 1958 is dated 12 March.
There were perhaps others, but this long missive appears to be a catch-up,
filling in a gap that occurred because Bishop was flat out busy. This letter
will require several posts, as it is packed with detailed accounts of various
people, activities and situations. Even with gaps, sometimes lengthy, Bishop’s
letters simply launch into her side of the dialogue, knowing that Grace was as
eager to hear her news as she was to hear Grace’s.

Bishop began the letter with a typical declaration, “I’ve
been very bad about writing lately,” acknowledging that she had one of Grace’s
in hand, unanswered, a letter that had included a photograph of Hazel Bulmer
Snow’s house in Hollywood, Florida, where Grace was still staying. “It looks
very nice and pleasant.” Though unsure if Grace was still there (she was),
Bishop took that possibility to launch into a commentary about the weather (so
typical of Maritimers, who might be called “weather obsessed”).

The winter of 1958 was a bad one, if Bishop’s observations
are a clue. “You certainly chose the worst winter,” to be in Florida, “one of the
coldest they’ve ever had.” Bishop knew this all the way in Brazil because
she was reading American papers. She was sorry for Grace about this timing,
because, as a rule, “it can be so nice in Florida in February — bright and up in the
80’s and no rain.”

As bad as it was in Florida,
Bishop somehow knew it was “an awful winter” in Nova Scotia. How she knew this isn’t clear,
but she remarked that “my friends in N.Y. have been seeing northern lights, and
they’ve had to use ice breakers in N.Y. harbor.” So, as cold as Florida might have been,
at least Grace had some sort of “escape” from the worst, farther north.

This kind of extreme weather occurs periodically, and most
recently in the winter of 2015, which again caused N.Y. harbor to freeze solid:

And brought the Northern Lights as far south at the northern
US:

If it was cold in the north, it was hot in the south, “Here,
or at least in Rio,” Bishop noted, “it’s been
the hottest summer ever on record,” with the temperature reaching 105F a
few times. Bishop reported, “Lota tells me it’s sun spots, making these
extremes, and maybe she’s right.” The spots would certainly have triggered the
aurora borealis, but perhaps what was starting to manifest was what most
scientists now call the chaos of climate change.

Bishop had been able to stay away from Rio,
remain at the house in Samambaia; but Lota had been back and forth steadily for
various reasons, “and she minds the heat much more than I do,” Bishop observed.

Another issue in Rio was water, or the lack of it: “there
has been no water in some sections of Rio for
months,” Bishop reported. Most places had water, but only “for an hour or two a
day.” Bishop does not explain the cause of this shortage, but its affect was to
trigger a visit from all of Lota’s “grandchildren” and their mother (an account
of this visit is for another post).

In the midst of her lively reporting of the happenings
around her, Bishop interjected an announcement, perhaps because it had happened
while she was composing the letter: “I had a wonderful letter from Aunt Mable [sic].” Sadly, Bishop’s letters to this
aunt did not survive. Mabel is vividly described in Bishop’s “Memories of Uncle
Neddy,” a woman Bishop was not particularly close to, but even so, she clearly
welcomed this epistle: “The first paragraph or two she hadn’t hit her stride,”
Bishop observed, “then she really did, and she does write wonderful letters!”
Writing a good letter was an admirable achievement in Bishop’s mind, and she
had pretty high standards.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

If Elizabeth and Lota had been busy in the final weeks of
their stay in the US, they
were even busier once they returned to Brazil. Bishop’s next extant letter
to Grace is dated 11 December 1957. If others were written and sent, they no
longer survive. Undoubtedly, Bishop did let Grace know when they were safely
back in Brazil,
but perhaps it was just a postcard, which vanished into time’s vast vaults.
These vaults hold many lost and forgotten communications. Even so, it might
have taken Bishop that long to settle down enough to write, the prompt of
approaching Christmas bringing her to the letter she perhaps had wanted to
write all along.

Another issue in the delay was Brazilian bureaucracy. After
expressing her hope that her missive would reach Grace “in time for your
Christmas,” in spite of the “slow mails” at “this time of year,” Bishop
informed her aunt that her delay was partly because she was “waiting for my
Christmas cards that I bought in New
York to show up!” But they, along with much else,
were “still in the customs … and now they’ll have to wait until next
Christmas.”

Since returning, Elizabeth and Lota had been trying to free
their many boxes and barrels from Brazilian customs. Bishop noted, “Poor Lota
has been to Rio three times now and still half
our stuff is there.” They both had to make another trek “next week” to keep at
the bureaucrats, who had, “at one point … lost all our papers — including both
our passports!” Bishop’s word for this slog was “maddening.”

After being away for months, Lota’s family had its own
demands. Bishop wrote that the “two oldest ‘grandchildren’” were visiting. Old
being a relative term: “aged 3 and 4½.” Their mother had just had her fourth
child, another girl, so the older siblings needed tending. The newborn was
named after Lota, “‘Maria Carlota’and
nicknamed ‘Lotinha’, or ‘Little Lota’.” If these toddlers weren’t enough, “the
cook’s new baby is here, too … three months [old].” As well as Betty (Bishop’s
namesake), who would be three in February. Bishop acknowledged the “big
responsibility” these little ones brought to Lota. Musing on the nursery that
surrounded her, Bishop wrote, “You’d think that two old maids could avoid all
this fuss about little shoes, cod liver oil, bowel movements, haircuts, etc. —
but apparently not!”

The straw on the camel’s back of all this activity was the
“horrible weather since we’ve been back.” So bad was it that Bishop could count
the sunny days on one hand: “exactly three sunny days so far.” The “pouring
rain” meant the children were more or less housebound: “You should hear me
trying to tell stories in Portuguese!”

Winding down her letter, Bishop apologized for its poor
quality, “but I think you owe me one.” Her brief epistle was meant to carry the
“small present” (the usual money, with an echo of her previous claim that it
would have been bigger “if I weren’t so broke after my N.Y. trip”).

Suddenly realizing that she had forgotten an important
update, she added, “I love having the pictures.” The grandchildren were
intrigued by them, too. They “think they’re my mother and father, and asked all
about them.” When Helena
asked, “What did they die of?” Bishop directed her, “go and ask your
Grandmother … so she went and asked Lota.”

One thing that becomes clear in this letter is that Grace
was back in the US, in Florida. In Hollywood, FL,
to be exact, where Hazel Bulmer Snow lived. Hazel was Arthur and Mabel Bulmer’s
daughter, so another of Grace’s nieces.

Hazel had been living in Florida for some time. Mabel, a widow of
five years, was spending the winter with her daughter. Grace joined them.
Clearly, Grace had been in touch about this recent development (it was not
“news” to Bishop), so perhaps it was Bishop who really owed a letter. Bishop
wrote, “I’ll try to get a card for Aunt Mabel in Petrópolis today.” And
concluded this brief, jumbled letter with a plea: “I am very eager to hear from
you and learn what you’re doing, if you’ve got a job, etc., and how you’re
liking it there.”

While not as far south as Key West,
Hollywood was in southern Florida. Having been in that neck of the
woods relatively recently, it is clear Bishop was pleased that Grace was
experiencing something of the “state with the prettiest name.” Scribbled in
Bishop’s gnomic holograph, at the bottom of the page, was her acknowledgement
that Grace would find it “strange,” having her “1st Christmas in the tropics!
They put off fire-works — or used to.”

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Bishop’s 16 September 1957 letter to Grace was written not
long before she and Lota were due to return to Brazil. It was a busy time. Bishop
had just returned from Key West, where she had
gone to see Marjorie Stevens: “I felt I couldn’t leave the U.S.A. without
seeing Marjorie.” With Lota occupied with a Brazilian friend visiting for a few
weeks, Bishop had gone off to reconnect with Majorie after nearly a decade.
Grace knew Marjorie, so Bishop knew Grace would be interested in how she was
doing. Marjorie was also interested to know about Grace. “She asked all about
you,” Bishop wrote.

(Marjorie Stevens and Pauline Hemingway in Key West, 1940s)

Marjorie was living in a “new little house” and was keen to
show it to Bishop. Though it was “fearfully hot in K.W.,” Bishop seemed to have
a pleasant time, and saw several other “old friends.” The big topic was “Blue
Points,” that is, Siamese cats, which Marjorie was taking care of for a friend:
“pale gray with silver markings and blue eyes, beautiful animals.” Being a died-in-the-fur
cat person, Bishop “let them sleep with me,” in spite of the heat. The more
challenging part of their nature was they “talk a great deal!”

Bishop had welcomed this side-trip because Lota (and the
visiting Brazilian friend) was “shopping like crazy,” so the apartment was in a
state of upheaval with all the packages and packing.

Upon returning to New
York, which was “hotter than ever — an unusual heat
wave for September,” Bishop found “a new batch of proof waiting,” which
had to be gone through before they left. You can see what came next: “This,
plus the earlier sailing date, plus the fact that I’m completely BROKE, of
course — means that I don’t see how I can possibly get to N.S.” I suspect Grace
was not surprised, even if she was disappointed. Bishop always “hop[ed] against
hope” to get to Nova Scotia on the rare
occasions she was in the U.S.
in the 1950s and 1960s. But it never happened.

To further explain her financial constraints, Bishop noted,
“I thought I was getting a refund on my income tax that would have paid
for the ticket.” Her accountant, however, had conscientiously applied the
refund “on next year’s instead.” Bishop was never good with business matters.
Perhaps the accountant knew this weakness and was trying to help Bishop, in
spite of herself. After months in the US, Bishop declared, “I’m going off
with lots of unpaid bills and unseen friends.” Still, her “I am so terribly
sorry, really,” sounded genuine. She added, “If it’s any consolation, Aunt F tells
me my Worcester
relatives are mad at not seeing me again!” Poor Aunt Florence “got Lota on the
telephone while I was away — called her “LOLA” and told her how smart I am, but
how it was only natural because the Bishops are all so smart!” When Bishop returned,
she called her elderly paternal aunt, who told her that she wanted “some pink
pajamas, ‘pretty ones dearie’ (as if left to my own devices I’d buy ugly ones).”
There might have been good reasons why Bishop avoided her Worcester relatives.

Amusingly, Florence
declared (in all seriousness) to Bishop that Grace was “getting married.”
Bishop knew, of course, that this was not true, but couldn’t resist: “Is this
true, and if so I wonder who is the lucky man?” Though she knew perfectly well
it was “Aunt F’s fancies.” To extend the joke a bit more, Bishop noted, “I
think it is a fine idea but I’m surprised you’d confide in Aunt Florence
first!” One can see the two of them laughing heartily over this fancy.

Bishop was clearly pressed for time with completing the book
work, shopping, final visits, and other appointments. This letter has a tone
of: there are not enough hours in the day; and a regret of letting go of
something she really wanted to do.

Bishop concluded this letter with an odd story, about an appointment
with the dentist (she had been preoccupied about her teeth in Brazil, needing to get to the dentist; so
getting to one in the US
was a priority). To Grace she said, “I spent the morning at the dentist’s and
read the Sept. [sic: August] National
Geographic — a very silly piece about the Bay of Fundy.”
This piece, “Giant Tides of Fundy,” was written by Paul Zahl. She told her
aunt, “I think I’ll buy it just for the photographs — some of them made me feel
homesick.”

In 1918 Bishop was in another dentist’s office reading a National Georgraphic. Here, nearly 40
years later, she was again registering the contents of one of the most
ubiquitous magazines found in such waiting rooms. One wonders if it might not
have triggered the old memory, though it took nearly another decade before she
began to write “In the Waiting Room.” Zahl’s piece is actually not “silly” but
a passionate and lively account of the environment of the Bay
of Fundy. There are dozens of photographs, and no wonder some of
them made her homesick. She concluded her letter, “I do wish I could get there
now, to see the colours of the maple trees. With much love, and I’ll try to
write sooner.”

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

In these troubling times, positive creativity is vital. We
need more music, more poetry, more painting, dance, drama. Suzie LeBlanc’s “APocket of Time” concert, a tribute to Elizabeth Bishop, on Sunday evening, 13
November, at the Maritime Conservatory of Performing Arts in Halifax, N.S.,
embodied the kind of collaborative creativity that brings out the best in and
inspires all of us. Presented by Cecilia Concert Series, it gave all those who
attended a great lift.

With Blue Engine String Quartet and pianist RobertKortgaard, Suzie sang several settings of Bishop poems, which had been composed
for her for the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary in 2011: a setting of “Sunday 4
A.M.,” by John Plant (whose birthday it was that day – imagine, having Suzie
LeBlanc sing you “Happy Birthday” accompanied by a string quartet!); and “A
Short Slow Life,” by Emily Doolittle (who had arranged an orchestral score for
this superb string quartet).

Two new settings of Bishop poems were also performed. The
most recent, “Paris
7 A.M.,” by British composer Ivan Moody, was a world premiere performance. Halifax pianist and
composer Peter Togni recently set “Lullaby for a Cat,” for Suzie and she closed
the show with this tender song. The concert opened with Blue Engine performing
Alasdair MacLean’s “The Silken Water is Weaving and Weaving,” inspired by this
line from Bishop’s poem “Cape Breton.”

Music and songs by Brazilian composer Heitor Villa Lobos and
Robert Schumann rounded out this program which explored time and dream and the
moon.

I had the privilege of presenting a little pre-concert talk,
which I think entertained those kind souls who arrived early. Here I am in full
flight – not singing! – but declaring Bishop’s life-long love of music.

(Photo by Binnie Brennan)

I want to thank Cecilia Concert series for their warm
welcome and for deep commitment to music, and all those who attended. It was a kind of “old home night” for me, seeing friends I had not seen in a long
time, as I do not live in Halifax
any longer. Including my friend, the poet and Open Heart Farming editor Mary Ellen Sullivan. To be part of this kind of music-making is a tremendously uplifting honour. Thanks to Binnie
Brennan for taking these photos.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Bishop’s letter of 10 January 1957 appears to have been the
last she wrote to Grace until September (at least none in the interim have
survived). The reason for this gap was the trip Bishop mentioned she and Lota
were going to take to the United
States. As Brett Millier records, this trip
was primarily to shepherd the translation of Mina Vida de Menia (The Diary
of ‘Helena Morley’) through publication with Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. (p. 289)

Perhaps Grace wrote a letter to Bishop before they left for
the US,
on Bishop’s urging. She hoped she would hear from her aunt: “maybe I’ll get
more [letters] if you keep working nights.” And closed by saying she hoped to
see her “in 1957.”

They arrived in New
York on 31 March. The visit lasted six months and
included side trips to Maine, Massachusetts and Florida.
It was a whirlwind of reconnecting with many friends, of onerous work with the
publisher on page proofs, and witnessing the changes that had happened in America
since she left in 1951. Grace was nursing in New England and as a result she
and Bishop managed to catch what Bishop called a “glimpse” of each other, their
first direct meeting in a decade. During this stretch, however, it seems that Grace
returned to Nova Scotia
(indeed, Grace seemed to be far more nomadic than Bishop in the 1950s). It is
evident from Bishop’s next letter, however, that Grace continued to write to her
niece during this stretch of time.

Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 16 September
1957, and was written in New York
at the apartment she and Lota rented at 115 East 67th Street. Bishop had recently
returned from a week-long stay with Marjorie Stevens in Florida. She told Grace, “I took your letter
down to Key West
with me and then never did get a chance to answer it, and while I was away your
postcard came.” At some point, either during their brief visit or in subsequent
correspondence, Grace offered her niece a precious gift: two family portraits,
one of Bishop’s mother, Gertrude Bulmer Bishop, and one of her uncle, Arthur
Bridges Bulmer, painted sometime in the late 1880s, one in Grace’s possession
and the other in Mabel Bulmer’s (Arthur’s wife) possession.

(Gertrude Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

Bishop opens her letter unequivocally, “I’d love to
have that portrait of my mother — I’ve wanted it, as you know, for years.” Much
of their discussion about this subject related to the logistics of getting the
paintings to Bishop: how much the postage would be, how much to insure them for,
and what the customs duty might be. Bishop stated strongly that she would be
willing to pay whatever the cost, and added, “Thank Aunt Mabel for me. It seems
a shame to break the pair … and tell her I do appreciate it.”

(Arthur Bridges Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

These portraits reached Bishop before she and Lota left the US in early
October (“Our freighter is now sailing on … the 8th.” As Millier writes, they
accompanied “the seven trunks, four wooden boxes, four large crates, three
barrels, and twenty-six pieces of luggage that Elizabeth and Lota” took back to
Brazil.
(p. 293) These portraits triggered one of Bishop’s most detailed word portraits
of a member of her maternal family, her memoir “Memories of Uncle Neddy.” She
re-framed the paintings and hung them in the house at Samambaia. She brought
them back when she left Brazil
in the late 1960s.

During their brief meeting, Grace gave Bishop another gift:
“I like that little photograph you gave me so much.” Since both knew the
content of the photo, it of course did not need to be described (how
frustrating!). Lota liked it, too, because Bishop notes that she “found a very
pretty oval gold frame for it — well, brass with some gold wash, but it looks
very nice!”

These family mementos meant a great deal to Bishop. The
portraits would have hung initially in her grandparents’ home, though by the
time she came along, the one of Arthur perhaps had already migrated across the
road to her uncle’s house. The memoir she wrote focused on her uncle because
she had already written and published “In the Village,” a powerful word
portrait of her mother. “Memories of Uncle Neddy” is full to the brim of vivid
memories and details of this man and his family, of the village itself.

What happened to
these portraits?

When Bishop died in 1979, Alice Methfessel inherited the
bulk of Bishop’s estate, including the portraits, which she kept for the rest
of her life. When Alice died in 2009, her
partner Angela Leap inherited Alice’s
estate, including the Bishop materials she retained (part of which was a filing
cabinet with a cache of letters, some of Bishop’s own paintings, a George W.
Hutchinson painting, which triggered “Poem,” and the portraits). Leap sold the
contents of the filing cabinet to Vassar
College. She commissioned
rare book dealer James Jaffe to help her sell all the artwork. I spent well
over a year trying to raise awareness and funds to repatriate the portraits and
the “Poem” painting. Regretfully, I failed.

Bishop’s letter of 10 January 1957 appears to have been the
last she wrote to Grace until September (at least none in the interim have
survived). The reason for this gap was the trip Bishop mentioned she and Lota
were going to take to the United
States. As Brett Millier records, this trip
was primarily to shepherd the translation of Mina Vida de Menia (The Diary
of ‘Helena Morley’) through publication with Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. (p. 289)

Perhaps Grace wrote a letter to Bishop before they left for
the US,
on Bishop’s urging. She hoped she would hear from her aunt: “maybe I’ll get
more [letters] if you keep working nights.” And closed by saying she hoped to
see her “in 1957.”

They arrived in New
York on 31 March. The visit lasted six months and
included side trips to Maine, Massachusetts and Florida.
It was a whirlwind of reconnecting with many friends, of onerous work with the
publisher on page proofs, and witnessing the changes that had happened in America
since she left in 1951. Grace was nursing in New England and as a result she
and Bishop managed to catch what Bishop called a “glimpse” of each other, their
first direct meeting in a decade. During this stretch, however, it seems that Grace
returned to Nova Scotia
(indeed, Grace seemed to be far more nomadic than Bishop in the 1950s). It is
evident from Bishop’s next letter, however, that Grace continued to write to her
niece during this stretch of time.

Bishop’s next extant letter to Grace is dated 16 September
1957, and was written in New York
at the apartment she and Lota rented at 115 East 67th Street. Bishop had recently
returned from a week-long stay with Marjorie Stevens in Florida. She told Grace, “I took your letter
down to Key West
with me and then never did get a chance to answer it, and while I was away your
postcard came.” At some point, either during their brief visit or in subsequent
correspondence, Grace offered her niece a precious gift: two family portraits,
one of Bishop’s mother, Gertrude Bulmer Bishop, and one of her uncle, Arthur
Bridges Bulmer, painted sometime in the late 1880s, one in Grace’s possession
and the other in Mabel Bulmer’s (Arthur’s wife) possession.

(Gertrude Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

Bishop opens her letter unequivocally, “I’d love to
have that portrait of my mother — I’ve wanted it, as you know, for years.” Much
of their discussion about this subject related to the logistics of getting the
paintings to Bishop: how much the postage would be, how much to insure them for,
and what the customs duty might be. Bishop stated strongly that she would be
willing to pay whatever the cost, and added, “Thank Aunt Mabel for me. It seems
a shame to break the pair … and tell her I do appreciate it.”

(Arthur Bridges Bulmer, circa late 1880s. Painter unknown.)

These portraits reached Bishop before she and Lota left the US in early
October (“Our freighter is now sailing on … the 8th.” As Millier writes, they
accompanied “the seven trunks, four wooden boxes, four large crates, three
barrels, and twenty-six pieces of luggage that Elizabeth and Lota” took back to
Brazil.
(p. 293) These portraits triggered one of Bishop’s most detailed word portraits
of a member of her maternal family, her memoir “Memories of Uncle Neddy.” She
re-framed the paintings and hung them in the house at Samambaia. She brought
them back when she left Brazil
in the late 1960s.

During their brief meeting, Grace gave Bishop another gift:
“I like that little photograph you gave me so much.” Since both knew the
content of the photo, it of course did not need to be described (how
frustrating!). Lota liked it, too, because Bishop notes that she “found a very
pretty oval gold frame for it — well, brass with some gold wash, but it looks
very nice!”

These family mementos meant a great deal to Bishop. The
portraits would have hung initially in her grandparents’ home, though by the
time she came along, the one of Arthur perhaps had already migrated across the
road to her uncle’s house. The memoir she wrote focused on her uncle because
she had already written and published “In the Village,” a powerful word
portrait of her mother. “Memories of Uncle Neddy” is full to the brim of vivid
memories and details of this man and his family, of the village itself.

What happened to
these portraits?

When Bishop died in 1979, Alice Methfessel inherited the
bulk of Bishop’s estate, including the portraits, which she kept for the rest
of her life. When Alice died in 2009, her
partner Angela Leap inherited Alice’s
estate, including the Bishop materials she retained (part of which was a filing
cabinet with a cache of letters, some of Bishop’s own paintings, a George W.
Hutchinson painting, which triggered “Poem,” and the portraits). Leap sold the
contents of the filing cabinet to Vassar
College. She commissioned
rare book dealer James Jaffe to help her sell all the artwork. I spent well
over a year trying to raise awareness and funds to repatriate the portraits and
the “Poem” painting. Regretfully, I failed.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

On Sunday evening, 13 November 2016, at 7:00 p.m., at the Maritime Conservatory of Performing Arts, in Halifax,
N.S., soprano Suzie LeBlanc,
Honorary Patron of the EBSNS, will present a concert in tribute to Elizabeth
Bishop, “A Pocket of Time.” She will perform some of the settings of Bishop
poems that she commissioned for the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary in 2011 and
premiere a new one. She will be joined by the Blue Engine String Quartet and
pianist Robert Kortgaard. This concert is presented by Cecilia Concerts. You can find out more about this concert by clicking here.

I am pleased to say that I will give a short pre-concert
talk, focused on Elizabeth Bishop’s love of music.

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Christmas continued into 1957 for Elizabeth and Lota. In the
10 January letter, Bishop tells Aunt Grace that “a crate just came this
afternoon from a woman we know in São
Paulo.” This friend was a wealthy coffee plantation
owner, who had wanted Bishop “to translate her life story she’d written!”
Bishop managed to bow out, perhaps because she “found another American here to
do it for her.” By way of a thank you, however, this woman “sent me a huge sack
— like a potato bag” (something Grace would be very familiar with) “full of
coffee beans,” “about 20 pounds.” Bizarrely, Bishop declares that they had “no
mill … to grind it,” so they would “have to buy one tomorrow.” Remember, this
letter was written from Rio. Presumably, they
had such a device at the house in Samambaia. Bishop declared that the coffee
was “marvellous … like nothing you’ve ever tasted.”

Bishop then tells Grace about Lota’s friend Alfred, “who
visits us quite often,” and was there “for a stay.” Bishop described him as “a
writer, more or less,” “separated from his wife” and living alone. He was “in
terrible shape, poor dear,” not eating right, “etc., etc.” He liked coffee, so
visited “just about every hour on the hour” with his thermos. To make him even
stranger, Bishop scribbled in the margin, “He’s rich, but unhappy — a
graduate of Princeton, so speaks English —
perfect English, too.” Even with “a daughter of 22, & a son of 16,” he was
very lonely. Bishop also had “to give him an injection every day.” For what,
she does not say.

Another neighbour, this one in the country, offered much
more delight. He owned land “next to Lota’s” in Samambaia and raised orchids.
Bishop described his green houses, filled with “thousands of pots … each green house
… a little further along and a little bigger, just like a school for orchids —
until you get to the top class, when they’re in bloom.” He showed his orchids
at “a big flower show” that was held annually in a hotel in Pétropolis, “and he
usually gets some blue ribbons.” The most spectacular of his orchids, Bishop
reported, “was just like a waterfall — an enormous pot, the plant about three
feet high, with 12 cascades of small white orchids … each spray about 18 inches
long — pure white with a tiny yellow spot.” As soon as Lota saw it, she went
back to the house to get Bishop. “I’ve never seen such a gorgeous plant,
really,” Bishop declared. Bishop noted that their neighbour had “been offered
about $200 for it.” Having such a neighbour had its benefits. For one thing,
“any time we feel like it we can go through his orchid houses.” And “at
Christmas his truck came up with four beautiful gloxinias all in bloom” and
“four big begonias.” Clearly, he grew more than orchids.

The orchid man came up in the letter because Grace had
written something about a very showy flower called “Bird of Paradise,” which
Bishop thought could also be found in Brazil, the flower that “looks like
a cockatoo’s crest?” This comment then launched Bishop into the orchids.

Having exhausted quite a few topics in this inaugural letter
of 1957, Bishop makes a few passing comments about a couple of strange
subjects:

“‘The Ten Commandments’ sounds awful.” Clearly, Grace had
seen this Cecil B. DeMille epic, but that didn’t stop Bishop from “enclosing a
review of it by a funny friend of mine in the U.S.” It would be interesting to
know who this was. Perhaps a review in The
New Yorker?

"I just heard that [Anthony] Eden’s resigned,” though she wasn’t sure
“whether he did it himself or was forced to,” because she had not seen the
papers. “Poor England … But
I think the U.S.
handled that very badly, too, and that [John Foster] Dulles is a damned fool.”

(Anthony Eden)

(John Foster Dulles)

She concluded her letter, with her love and a little
scribble, “I hope to see you in 1957.” Which indeed happened. The next post
will address a gap in their correspondence and the first letter that followed
it.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Bishop’s 10 January 1957 letter dwelt on food more than any
other that she had written so far (at least of those letters that survive).
After telling Grace about Lota’s preference for crêpe suzettes, Bishop wrote
that over the Christmas holiday she “made some Dundee
cakes — that white fruit-cake — and thought of Gammie [her maternal
grandmother] — remember how much she liked it?”

This traditional Scottish cake, a kind of signature for the
country, is in the midst of proprietary aspirations by the Scottish government.
Heaven forbid someone attempts to claim this confection for another nation!
Gammie (Elizabeth Bulmer) was a Maritimer born and very English, but the
Yorkshire Bulmer ancestors were close enough to Scotland to have, perhaps, acquired
the taste for it. Or, perhaps the general culture of Nova Scotia imprinted this preference on
Bishop’s grandmother.

A good portion of this long letter was devoted to jam. One
of Bishop’s delights in living in the house at Samambaia was being able to cook
again, to learn how to make Brazilian dishes and teach the cook Maria how to
make North American dishes. Brazilians have a sweet tooth, and no less so Lota,
so Bishop’s eagerness to make jam was welcomed by all in the household. The
main jam under consideration in this letter was apricot and coconut. It is a
question whether Grace, in 1957, could get access to this produce; but since
she was in the US working,
perhaps it was easier to do so (easier than in Nova Scotia!).

Here is Bishop’s summary of her “DRIED APRICOT &
COCONUT” jam recipe:

“Crack the nut, collect the milk, peel off the brown rind
(it handles more easily if immersed for a moment in hot water) and put the
white flesh twice through the grinder. [I grate it.] Cut up a half pound of
apricots and soak them, with the coconut and its milk, in a quart of water
overnight. Next day simmer very gently for about an hour, until tender, and
weigh. Add weight for weight of sugar and the juice of one lemon and cook fast
but watchfully (keep stirring) until setting.” She noted that you could also
use “dried coconut but it isn’t as good.”

Bishop had described the process of making this jam in even
greater detail earlier in the letter, clearly wanting to make sure Grace knew
all the tricks: “It should be soupy, but not liquid, if you know what I mean!”;
“or two limes”; “warm sugar”; two coconuts and a pound of apricots yielded “6
pints,” but her “pots aren’t any known standard size.” She acknowledged that
while “jam with coconut is delicious,” it was likely “hard on false-teeth
wearers!” While she was “not quite one yet,” she worried that she might soon be
“if I don’t get to that dentist.”

In addition to the apricot and coconut jam, Bishop also sent
recipes for apricot and almond jam, which she said was “better than the above,
but apricots are too expensive to make it often”; lime and pineapple jam; and,
finally, rhubarb and orange jam. The apricot and almond jam was quite involved
but Bishop assured Grace it was “a real delicacy, if you want to be very
fancy!” The lime and pinapple was “excellent” but it required a long cooking
time for the limes. The rhubarb and orange was “easy and good.”

As an afterthought, Bishop noted that there was “a wonderful
way to make strawberry jam by cooking it in the sun — do you know it?” She
doesn’t elaborate, saying only, “I never can get enough strawberries here, but
I’ve made it,” and when Grace got back to Nova Scotia, Bishop promised to “send the
recipe” to her.

To reinforce all this instruction about preserves, Bishop
also promised to send Grace “a copy of the little English book of jams &
jellies.” And she actually did send this book: Jams, Jellies and Preserves: How to Make Them, by Ethelind Fearon,
published in 1956 in London
by Herbert Jenkins. Bishop also sent Ambrose Heath’s Biscuits and American Cookies: How to Make Them (1953). Grace kept
both of these tiny volumes for the rest of her life and they are now at AcadiaUniversity Archives.

If jam was not enough, Bishop also provided a little
treatise on pickles, which “are dreadful here,” she observed. She told Grace
that “occasionally” she made “watermelon rind pickle, and pepper relish (that’s
so easy I can get Maria to do most of the work!).” Bishop’s relish had a
reputation. She gave “a pot to our friend Oscar at Christmas” because “he loves
pickles.” He liked it so much that “he asked Lota if she thought I’d mind
giving his cook the recipe, or if it was a secret!” Because it was difficult to
get some of the ingredients, Bishop was limited in the kind of pickles she
could make, but told Grace that “an American friend is coming to visit in
February — and I am asking her to bring us tumeric and ginger and celery seed.”

Monday, October 3, 2016

In 2014 the St. James Church Preservation Society
provided the EBSNS with a temporary space in the sanctuary of the church to set
up an exhibit about Elizabeth Bishop. The EBSNS put together an ad hoc display,
which was seen by the many visitors to the café and attendees of various
events, including the Elizabeth Bishop Arts Festival in August 2015.

When the Preservation Society took over full responsibility for
the church, the EBSNS would receive a new location to set up a proper permanent
exhibit/gallery space. That new location was offered in August 2016: at the
front and on the east side of the sanctuary. The Great Village Historical
Society has a permanent Marine
Museum exhibit on the
west side of the sanctuary. The Preservation Society will also set up an
exhibit about the history of St. James Church.

(The area in the sanctuary of St. James Church where

the EB exhibit/gallery will be located. Photo by Laurie Gunn.)

This project has two components: 1. an exhibit called “Elizabeth Bishop’s Beginnings,” which will
complement the panels about Bishop that are displayed on the pergola near
Wilson’s Gas Stop; and 2. a gallery
called “Echoes of Elizabeth Bishop,” where art created by Nova Scotia artists,
inspired by Bishop, will be shown.

The Elizabeth Bishop Exhibit/Gallery Patron fund-raiser:

The EBSNS will invest its own funds, time and expertise in
the exhibit. The society is also applying for a grant from Nova Scotia Arts.
However, the cost of this project is such that the society needs to raise
additional funds. All funds will go directly to upgrading the space and creating
the exhibit.

The EBSNS seeks donations from members and anyone interested
in supporting this permanent public place honouring Elizabeth Bishop and her
connections to Great Village and Nova Scotia,
and showcasing contemporary Nova
Scotia artists.

If you would like to be an Exhibit Patron, there are two
levels of support: $100 (Gold Sponsors)
and $50 (Silver Sponsors).

Monday, September 26, 2016

Being the first epistle after Christmas, Bishop gave Grace
an account of their holiday in the 10 January 1957 letter. “We had a very quiet
Christmas,” she reported. Part of the reason was “it rained all day.” And they
had only “two guests.” Lota’s gifts to Bishop were multi-cultural. They
included “a beautiful red sweater (from Argentina).” Bishop noted that the
“woolen things” from that country were “almost as good as English ones.” Then
there was “an elegant gray silk umbrella (from Italy)
and a cigarette lighter (from the U.S.).” Bishop’s main gift to Lota
was far more practical: infrastructure, that is, “the shower-bath for the guest
bathroom!” Clarifying a bit, Bishop noted she would be paying “for the booth,
of chrome and glass.” In spite of their few guests over Christmas, Bishop
observed that since they were “having so much company,” generally, Lota was
“feeling desperate” about the bathroom, “other things, like floors, always
seemed more important,” Bishop explained.

The other gift Bishop gave to Lota was “a bottle of brandy.”
Lota loved “to make crepe [sic]
suzettes (one of the few things she’ll cook — for Sunday night suppers),” so
the brandy was for this culinary treat, as Lota was not much of a drinker
(unlike Bishop).

Bishop then got to “the best part of our Christmas,” which
was “giving presents to Betty,” the cook’s daughter and Bishop’s namesake. Even
though she was still too young to understand “what it was all about” (“she’ll
be 2 in February,” Bishop scribbled in the margin in her nearly illegible
hand), she “opened everything very carefully and slowly, stared at it, and then
looked at us with the most beautiful smile.” The gifts included a doll from
Lota and “a dress and watering-pot” from Bishop. It seemed that Betty followed
“the gardener around doing everything he does.” Betty also got “an adorable
blue wool bathing suit” from “our friend Mary [Morse].” This suit had “white
smocking and a white ruffle.”

Even their Rio friends sent
along gifts for Betty because “they’ve all seen her and think she’s so cute.”
This much doted on child “even went in the brook, finally, with two of her
young aunts,” the day before Bishop’s letter was written. So familiar was she with
Lota that whenever Betty saw her drive up in her car, she yelled “Totta!
Totta!”

The only responses Bishop made to Grace’s account of her own
Christmas (which, it appears, she spent in the U.S.) was to commend her for the
thoughtful act of sending “poor Uncle George … a present” and to note that
“your Christmas box sounded wonderful” (a gift which would have been sent from
Grace’s daughter Phyllis Sutherland, as immediately after Bishop asks, “How is
David Alexander?” Phyllis’s newborn son.)

(Wallace, Phyllis and David Sutherland, 2006)

Bishop told Grace that she had heard from Aunt Florence just
the day before, on 9 January, and reported that she had been “in the hospital a
few days, at Christmas time, with what she says was a ‘Gaul
bladder attack’.” Bishop assured Grace, who clearly had wondered why she had
not heard herself from Florence,
“she certainly isn’t mad at you …. this time she’s been sick.” Bishop
reiterated that Florence
“always speaks of you with the greatest admiration, honestly.” Bishop was
noticing that Florence’s correspondence had become more erratic, “sometimes she
writes to me twice a week, and sometimes she forgets and doesn’t write for
weeks at a time — and then blames me, usually — or the Brazilian mails!”
Bishop suspected that she would hear from her cousin Kay Orr Sargent with an
update.

It is not too strong to say that for much of her early life,
Bishop hated Christmas, a time when immediate family gathers and celebrates.
While she had extended family (and even some beloved maternal relatives),
Bishop found this holiday season lonely. Even in early childhood, Christmas in
her maternal grandparents’ home generated one of her most unsettling memories
(“brief but poignant, like a childhood nightmare that haunts one for years”),
which she wrote about in vivid detail in “Memories of Uncle Neddy,” her complex
word-portrait of Arthur Bulmer. Undoubtedly, this memory came from the first
Christmas after her mother was hospitalized, so Bishop was particularly fragile
and vulnerable. The gist of this memory was Arthur dressed improbably as Santa
Claus “cavorting” in the parlour, “terrifying” her and making her cry. Through
her sobs, she suddenly recognized that this “dreadful figure … was only Uncle
Neddy.”

(Arthur around the time of his “cavorting,” circa 1910s,

with his wife Mabel, their daughters Eleanor and Hazel)

As an adolescent and young adult, Bishop often spent
Christmas alone, just trying to get through to New Year’s Day. It was only when
she settled in Brazil did this holiday lose some of its darker aspects, at
least during the 1950s, when her relationship with Lota was strong and
reinforcing.

A good portion of the 10 January 1957 letter was about food.
Post 24 described a remarkable outing in Rio
focused on food, but the rest of the letter referred to more domestic fare. The
next post will offer up some of this fare.

Friday, September 23, 2016

-- sending us these... these... well, one supposes the most fitting word would be imposing.... these imposing photographs from the most recent meeting of the EBSNS Board, held last Sunday, September 18:

5 September 2017: Nulla dies sine linea

[Today, near the beginning of a new month traditionally associated with the first day of school we begin a new feature to replace the long-running "Today in Bishop." Each day we hope to post a brief reflection on a line from Bishop's poetry, beginning with the title of the first poem in her first book, North & South. We would be happy to have contributions from the Patronage-at-Large, should anyone be so inclined.]

"The Map"

Not simply "Map": abstract, generalized, a concept more than an object, perhaps not even a noun at all, but an imperative, an imperious directive; nor yet "A Map": token of a type, a random example run across by chance, perhaps, on the dusty dark-fumed oak table in the centre of Marks & Co. once-upon-a-time during a long-anticipated visit to 84, Charing Cross Road just prior to its burial beneath a modernist glass tower, where its once-upon-a-place is now marked by a memorial plaque; no, no, no — "The Map" — unique, archetypal, redolent of all that makes it one-and-only, but also a congeries of interwoven metonymies as patterned and abundant as the sixth of the "La Dame à la licorne" Flemish tapestries ("À mon seul désir") or as Vermeer's "De Soldaat en het Lachende Meisje"— or, yet again, as the map in EB's "Primer Class."

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John Barnstead

I retired in 2014 after forty years of teaching Russian language and literature. I'm a past president of the Elizabeth Bishop Society of Nova Scotia.

Sandra Barry

I am a poet, independent scholar, freelance editor, and secretary of the Elizabeth Bishop Society of Nova Scotia.

Suzie LeBlanc

I am a professional singer who recently became a great admirer of Elizabeth Bishop's writing. I am also fond of walking and nature and I became involved with the Elizabeth Bishop Centenary because I wanted to have her poems set to music so that I could sing them.